Pieceful

A Poem by Kleinmenn

I hold
in my right hand
my knife
my red, Swiss army knife

blade open
blade close
blade open
blade close

I don't know what I plan to do with this object

perhaps
cut an orange
clean off the bark
of a hiking stick
whittle a horse
out of a twig

blade close
blade open
blade open
blade close

I put it on the desk
I look at it
glance,
at its beauty

yes, it is beautiful
not like a woman's face
not like a flower's petal

but

like

itself

blade open
blade open

what will I do with my knife
shall I sharpen it
rub it back and forth on my coarse stone
than smooth it out on my Arkansas

with oil, with water
with water, with oil

I may not use it

ever

But I cherish it
take care of it
protect it

blade close
blade closed